


A King's Honor

by greenmtwoman



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Kittens, More Fluff, More Kittens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25712188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenmtwoman/pseuds/greenmtwoman
Summary: What could the Kingslayer, the oathbreaker, the man with without honor tell his king?  His king who was also his nephew.  His king who was in fact his son.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 47
Kudos: 143





	A King's Honor

**Author's Note:**

> This is book canon, a missing scene which must have happened, even if not in the same way. I hope I haven't made mistakes with the timeline; let me know if I did. The relationship tag is sort of misleading, since Brienne isn't actually in it, though she's the reason for it. Tommen is an eight-year-old sweetheart. Jaime is trying hard. Kittens are kittens.

Ser Balon Swann was guarding the door of the king’s solar. “Lord Commander.” He nodded in greeting. “His Grace is within.” Swann lowered his voice. “Just don’t let those thrice-damned kittens get out, or we’ll be chasing them all over the Red Keep.”

Jaime automatically reached for the door with his right hand, then dropped his arm to his side, hoping Swann hadn’t noticed. Luckily, his left hand was swift enough to both push the door and grab the scrap of black fur streaking past his boots. He slid through the narrow gap.

Tommen’s solar had once been Robert’s, and then Joffrey’s. Robert had favored hunting tapestries and drinking horns. Jaime had never seen Joffrey’s room for himself, but he was told that the boy had liked weapons and scenes of battle and beheadings, the bloodier the better. It was still flooded with light from windows on all sides, with splendid views of the city and Blackwater Bay, but Tommen had a wooden model of the Red Keep, cat toys, books with pictures of cats and jousting knights (and one which had pictures of cats as jousting knights), a Myrish lens, an ivory and ebony sword and lance, a tattered fabric lion and a heap of blankets made into a sort of holdfast.

“Uncle Ser!” Tommen barreled toward him out of the chaos. “You have Lady Whiskers! She’s a naughty kitten.”

“Your Grace.” Jaime sank to one knee, which had the double purpose of honoring the king and allowing him to set down the kitten, which was wriggling, hissing and had sunk tiny fangs into his hand.

“Mother said you had come home. Where have you been?” Tommen grabbed Lady Whiskers with one hand and Jaime’s arm with the other. He had always been the gentlest and most emotional of Cersei’s children. _My children._

“In the Riverlands. I was a guest of the Starks for quite some time.”

“A guest of our enemies? The Starks were usurpers, but they’re all dead. Grandfather told me.”

“It’s… complicated, Your Grace.” Complicated was one way of describing the murder of guests at a wedding feast. _Despicable is another._ He remembered the awful expression on the wench’s face when they had heard the news. She had barely spoken or looked at him for several days afterward. No matter what was said about the Freys and the Boltons, it was easy enough for anyone to see Tywin Lannister’s directing hand at work.

“Anyway, I’m glad you’re home.”

“So am I.” Jaime had no notion of how to talk to children. He tried for an easy smile. “What do you think of being king, Tommen?”

“I don’t know.” Two more kittens appeared, chasing each other across the elaborate carpet. “Those are Ser Pounce and Boots. Everyone calls me ‘Your Grace’ now, instead of Prince.”

“I think you’ll be a good king. Better than your brother or your father.” _Your supposed father. You’ll also make a better king than I could be._

Tommen looked shocked. “Father was a great king.”

“King Robert had many great qualities.” _Such as his appetite. But his greatest quality was his blindness._ “I’m sure your maester can tell you of them.”

“Uncle Jaime?”

“Yes?”

“Why do you think I can be a good king?”

_This is more complex than I expected._ The easy notion that Tommen would do better than Robert or Joffrey wasn’t enough for the boy, who had too many shadows in his eyes for eight years. “Well… a good king should have a kind heart and a strong mind. I know that you have a kind heart, and a mind can be trained.” He was starting to sweat. _Trained by Cersei and my father? Gods above._ “And a good king should keep promises.” _Let’s get this conversation back to its purpose._ “Is there anything you like about being king?”

Tommen brightened. “I don’t like long meetings, but I don’t have to go to many of them. I like when afterward I sign and stamp my decrees. Sometimes Grandfather and Mother, or Uncle Kevan, explain them, but usually they say I’m too young to understand.”

_I can just imagine that’s what they say. I wonder what they’ve been decreeing in your name?_ “Do you think you could sign and seal a letter for me?”

“What is it?”

“I told you that a good king keeps promises. I’m not a king, Your Grace, but I made a promise. A vow.”

“What kind of promise?” The boy sat cross-legged on the floor, and the kittens came to investigate him. Jaime joined him. _Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, on the carpet with kittens._ He was glad that he’d left off his armor in favor of a tunic and jacket. “Do you see this?” His stump was covered with a white silk sleeve. Tommen was well-versed in his courtesies, and had tried hard not to stare at what wasn’t there, restricting himself to quick flicks of his eyes. Now, given permission, he looked frankly.

“Does it hurt?”

Jaime forced a smile. “Not much, not anymore.” _Except when I feel it is still there._ “Some very bad fellows cut it off. But it has to do with keeping my vow.” He produced a parchment. “Can you read this, lad?”

“Of course I can. I’m not a baby!” Tommen scanned it, his lips moving soundlessly. The letter stated that Brienne of Tarth was about the king’s business and all loyal subjects of King Tommen I, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and so on and so on, were commanded to give her every assistance.

Returning Sansa Stark to her family was not strictly Tommen’s business, and certainly not Cersei’s or his father’s, but it had become Jaime’s. _The oathbreaker is keeping his oaths. It’s amusing to do something unexpected._ Though perhaps there was one person who did expect it of him.

“Who is Brienne of Tarth?” asked Tommen.

“An honorable woman, who made a vow. Two vows, in fact. She was there when this,” he raised his arm, “happened, and she was my…” _Captor. Protector. Savior._ “…companion during my return to King’s Landing. If it were not for her, I wouldn’t be here.” _She could say the same of me._ “And, of course…”

“A Lannister always pays his debts!” said Tommen triumphantly. He stood. “I’ll take Ser Pounce to look for my seal.”

The desk was as cluttered as the rest of the room; Jaime could only surmise that Cersei hadn’t visited for a day or two, or she would probably have had the maids whipped. Ser Pounce batted at a heap of quills, and Jaime hastily rescued the inkpot. The seal was dusted with cake crumbs which Tommen brushed to the floor. He signed his name with careful concentration. Then there was another search for the wax, which was found on the deck of a miniature longship, and a candle to heat it. At last the seal was impressed in the warm wax, and Jaime retrieved the parchment with relief.

“There.” Tommen was unexpectedly earnest. “Now you can pay your debt, and your lady can keep her vow.”

_His lady?_ “She’s not my lady, but I thank you, Your Grace.” Jaime bowed and turned to leave.

The whole matter had been harder to arrange than he had anticipated. He’d been reluctant to trust a maester to write out the letter for him, and he’d given up on doing it himself after a single line. Tommen’s own childish and unregal hand was a marvel of elegance compared to Jaime’s staggering left-handed printing. The Flea Bottom scribes who wrote letters for the illiterate smallfolk weren’t an option. In the end he had been forced to trust ancient Maester Elmon, who had seen kings and hands and Lord Commanders come and go and had survived by seeing and hearing little and knowing less.

A smile, a wink and a silver stag had persuaded Senelle to reveal Cersei’s plans. This afternoon she would be occupied for several hours with her dressmakers, and his father had meetings as well. Jaime had arranged for Balon Swann to be on the door; he didn’t know the man well, but at least Swann wouldn’t immediately report to Cersei. _Unlike Blount and Trant and that Kettleblack._

Finally he could get this finished and send the wench on her way. King’s Landing rewarded those who were wealthy or beautiful or sharp-tongued or accomplished liars and manipulators. Brienne was none of those, nor was she inconspicuous. The sooner she was gone from here the better it would be. He didn’t like Cersei referring to her as “a great cow.” He didn’t like Cersei referring to her at all.

It wasn’t that he would miss her. Her scowls, her plain face, her broad body, her terse conversation. _Her strength, her gentleness, her astonishing eyes._ Perhaps he and Cersei could be reconciled. He was back where he belonged. Wasn’t he?

“Uncle Ser Jaime?”

Jaime had reached the door, and almost forgotten about Tommen.

“Yes?” _What now?_

“Was Joffrey a good king?”

“Do you think he was?” _What does the boy want of me?_

“No? No. He liked to hurt people. He liked to hurt me. He pinched and poked and twisted in places that didn’t show.”

Jaime had a disquieting memory of Cersei viciously twisting baby Tyrion’s tiny cock. _The Lions of the Rock. What a family we are._ It seemed that he couldn’t escape just yet.

Tommen looked at him pleadingly, and his words came faster. “He tripped me and when I cried, he said I wasn’t a lion. And there was a cat. I was little then. The cook said I could have a kitten, but Joffy took his knife and cut her and he gave me a kitten all dead with blood! And he laughed and laughed.” He gave a sob and clenched his fists. “I hated Joffy. Mother says I mustn’t cry because Joffy never cried, and I mustn’t call him Joffy either. ‘Joffrey,’ she says, ‘Your brother’s name was Joffrey.’"

Jaime had seldom felt more helpless. He knew what to do with sword and lance, with horse and armor. He knew how to command men. None of those skills were useful at the moment. _I can stay, and I can listen, I suppose. Brienne listened to me._

“I hated Joffrey, even though he was my brother. I liked Uncle Tyrion.”

“I like your Uncle Tyrion, too.”

“Mother says he’s a monster and a twisted demon and he killed Joffrey. She’s made a vow to see his head on a spike. She made me say the same. Is that a promise or a debt?”

Jaime’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. _All I wanted was a signature on a parchment…_

“A good king should make vows and keep his promises and pay his debts, I know that.” Tommen’s voice wavered. “Do you think Uncle Tyrion really killed Joffrey?”

“I wasn’t there, but no.” Speaking the words made him more certain. “No. Tyrion wouldn’t and he didn’t.”

“Then what should I do? Tommen picked up a kitten; Jaime didn’t know which one it was. There seemed to be more than just three. He squeezed it and it mewled indignantly. His voice dropped to a whisper. “They say you killed the Mad King. The stableboys call you Kingslayer. You made a vow and broke it. Do I have to keep my vow?” He was almost inaudible. “I’m not sorry that Joffrey’s dead, and I don’t really care who killed him.”

What could the Kingslayer, the oathbreaker, the man with shit for honor tell his king? His king who was also his nephew. His king who was in fact his son. _Tyrion is no monster, despite Cersei and Father’s best efforts. But Joffrey was one. Why? Do I bear any fault? He was never my son, nor I his father. But Tommen… Tommen is good._ Good was not a word often associated with Lannisters. Jaime loved his sister (didn’t he?) and his brother. He supposed he had loved his mother, though he could hardly remember her. Still, he felt her absence occasionally, like the phantom pain in his missing hand. He was fond of Genna and Daven, his aunt and cousin. But could any of them be called good people? Certainly he could not. _I know one good person, though. That’s why I’m here._

“Was that a terrible thing to say?” Tommen was still waiting for his answer.

“There are vows, and there are greater vows, Your Grace. Yes, I killed the Mad King. Someday I’ll tell you exactly why. But it was in service of a greater vow, to protect the innocent. Your Uncle Tyrion is innocent. You need not keep a vow to harm him.”

“What if Mother makes me?”

“I hardly think she’ll expect you to swing the sword yourself.” Tommen looked horrified. _Not the best picture to put in the boy’s head._ “Your uncle will have a trial. He will prove his innocence.” _A sweet lie. At least I have it in my power to spare Tommen from signing Tyrion’s death warrant._

"A boar killed Father.”

Jaime blinked. _What…?_

“And someone killed Joffrey. Not Uncle Tyrion. But someone.”

“Your Grace…”

Tommen’s round face twisted and his green eyes swam with tears. “Don’t call me that!”

_He’s afraid. That’s what it is. My son is afraid, and he has reason to be. King’s Landing kills its kings._

“Tommen, lad...” Almost against his will Jaime did something he had never done before. He held out his arms. Tommen dropped the kitten and Jaime held him close. Tommen was trembling, and his head hardly reached the middle of Jaime’s chest. _He’s still so small._ “I am the Lord Commander of your Kingsguard. No harm will come to you.” _A vow I mean to keep. A vow I may not be able to keep. But I can’t say that to him. I’ll do my crippled best, and hope that it’s still good enough._ They stood like that in silence for several moments, with Tommen's muffled sobs, the cries of the sea birds and the distant roar of the city in their ears. Jaime rocked the boy back and forth. _He smells of innocence._

Tommen sniffed and Jaime got the impression that the boy was wiping his nose on Jaime’s jacket. Something was tugging at his breeches. He looked down to find a kitten climbing him like a tree. Another was swarming up Tommen’s back. Rather to his relief, Tommen broke away and scrabbled to grab the tiny cat. Jaime detached the one which had almost reached his waist and held it out at arm’s length. “How do you tell them apart? Which one is this?”

Tommen had recovered enough to look shocked at adult stupidity. “That’s Boots! You can tell because of his white feet.”

“Ah.”

“This is Lady Whiskers and you can tell because she’s a lady. Ser Pounce is the biggest one.” Ser Pounce was back on the desk attacking the quills again. Tommen found a grubby handkerchief in his sleeve and blew his nose. “Please don’t tell Mother that I cried.”

“I won’t.” _Nor that I held you._ “I cried when this happened.” He held up his right arm. _And Brienne held me._ “Why don’t we just not mention this visit to your mother at all?”

“Will you come see me again?”

“Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will.” _And damn Cersei._ “And you can come to White Sword Tower and I’ll show you the White Book.” _Before that I have to find the wench, give her this parchment, and the other gift I have for her, and see that she’s out of the city. It will be odd not to have her to worry about any longer. A relief. In a way…_

Tommen, rubbed his eyes. “Thank you. Maybe we can have supper. With applecakes, but no beets.”

Jaime nodded. “No beets. I don’t like them either.”

Just as he reached the door, Tommen added, “I love you, Uncle Jaime.”

He froze, glad that his face was turned away. “I won’t let the kittens get out. I’ll see you soon. And Tommen… I love you, too, lad.” He closed the door softly behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second fic, and a bit more original than the first. Just how did Brienne get her royal warrant to go chasing after Sansa? I intended it to be fluffier, but I can't seem to stay away from the angst. But I didn't go near the question of Tommen's parentage; I couldn't do that to him (at least this time...) Thanks for reading! (I love comments!)


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